


electric lips, got me speaking in tongues

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Series: Fic A Day In May [8]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, dancer!Ian, ficadayinmay, mildly ooc mickey towards the end, this got shitty towards the end why does that always happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:18:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With its fading wallpaper, cracked ceiling tiles, and threadbare carpet, it was an unlikely place to find heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	electric lips, got me speaking in tongues

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from 'Spiritual' by Katy Perry. Which I may or may not have been listening to on repeat while I wrote this. (You should listen to it. It's good.)

Mickey Milkovich never told his sister where he went all those late nights. If he told someone, it would be making it into a thing, making it real, and Mickey didn’t think he could face that. He might tell her in a few years, but for now, Mickey wanted to keep this part of himself hidden away and kept secret.

So as Mandy asked him for the hundredth time, ‘Where are you off to?’, Mickey just shrugged.

‘None of your business. I have things to do.’

‘Like what?’

‘Things.’ Mickey snapped. ‘Why the fuck do you care?’

‘I don’t. You just never say where you’re going and never say anything when you get back at 5am, like nothing even happened while you were out.’ Mandy frowned. ‘You’re just... silent.’

‘Yup, that’s because it’s none of your business.’ Mickey grabbed his coat and headed for the door. ‘Don’t wait up.’

‘Never do.’ Mandy muttered, going back into her room.

She wouldn’t say she was worried about her brother when he went off like this. She knew he could hold his own in a fight, and he never came back with bruises (well at least not where she could _see_ ), so Mandy could at least say that Mickey wasn’t doing something stupid and/or illegal.

She had no idea what he was doing, and most of her guesses were worlds away from the truth.

Most of them.

 

* * *

 

Mickey was basically a regular at the club by now. The bouncers knew him, the bartenders knew him, and most of the dancers knew _of_ him. The ones that hadn’t seen him in person had heard stories, though, of the rough and sullen looking, quiet guy that glowed like the moon whenever a light passed across him. The one with pitch black hair and tattooed knuckles, who looked like he would be more comfortable in the middle of a fight, than at the table he always occupied in the corner near the bar.

The only reason people actually knew he was there – Mickey didn’t want to draw attention to himself – was because whenever he got up to go to the bar, he would pause at the balcony for a few moments and survey the club below.

He never went down to the dancers, never tipped them, paid for a dance, or fraternised with other patrons of the club. He just was. He never really looked interested in anyone at the club, he rarely went home with someone, and a lot of people weren’t even sure he was gay.

Then again, why would he be at a gay club if he wasn’t? He definitely didn’t look like the type of guy who would be at the club for shits and giggles, so his being gay was the only rational explanation.

 

* * *

 

Ian Gallagher couldn’t tell you the amount of times he had been to his best friend’s house. They had become pretty close after she came onto him, not knowing he was gay, and she had absolutely no chance unless she spontaneously grew a dick.

In all the times he had been to Mandy’s house, he had never met her brothers. All but one of them spent the majority of their time in juvie (or prison), and the other brother – Mickey – slept his day away. Yeah, Ian had seen him on the way into Mandy’s bathroom, accessible only through Mickey’s room, but it had been the back of his head. Never Mickey’s face, which was always pushed into a pillow, or covered by a blanket.

Ian was okay with not having met Mickey, because if there was one thing he knew about him, Mickey was a dangerous guy. Well, clearly not as bad as his brothers, but Ian knew better than to cross someone with “FUCK U-UP” tattooed on their knuckles – especially when that charming message was paired with the Milkovich name. Some people might have that tattooed on their hands, but there was the possibility it would come with empty threats, and just be something a person had done to piss off their parents. If a Milkovich had that tattooed? They meant business.

Ian knew for a fact that if any of Mandy’s family found out about him being gay, they would probably give him a great beatdown, if not kill him, even though Ian had done nothing to them. Because that’s just the way they were. Or at least, Terry, the glorious patriarch of the family was. He would definitely fuck you up.

 

* * *

 

On the way to the club, it was mostly dry, but as Mickey lined up to enter the club, it started pissing down with rain. He cursed, gave a quick nod of greeting to the bouncer, and went inside, directly to his table.

He dumped his coat and went up to the bar. He didn’t even need to say anything until there was a glass of Jack Daniels by his hand.

The bartender winked and said, ‘On the house.’

Mickey just rolled his eyes and walked off to the balcony. That guy had been flirting with Mickey since the first time he came to the club. Initially, Mickey thought it was just part of his job, but after watching him interact with other people, Mickey came to the conclusion that yeah, the bartender was trying to get in his pants. Un-fucking-likely.

Mickey stood at the balcony and raised the glass to his lips. He looked around the club at the dancers. He knew all of them by face, a couple by name, but none of them intimately.

As Mickey scanned the club, his eyes hooked on to a flash of red. There was a new guy. Tall, redhaired, and pale as fuck. He looked completely caught up in the music as he danced, and Mickey was entranced by it. He rolled his body, showing off well defined muscles, and a tattoo on his ribcage. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

Mickey took one last look before going up to the bar and waving his hand to get the attention of the bartender. ‘Ay, who’s that redhead?’ Mickey asked, nodding his head in the direction of the boy-God.

‘Oh, him?’ the bartender – the fuck was his name? Link? – said. ‘That’s Curtis. He transferred at the beginning of the week from a different club.’

‘Curtis.’ Mickey repeated.

‘Yeah, why? You think he’s cute?’ Link asked suspiciously, silently refilling Mickey’s glass.

‘Not bad.’ Mickey conceded.

‘Good, because he’s coming up here now.’ Link replied. He set a glass of water at the stool next to Mickey’s and nodded in greeting as the dancer came up behind them. ‘Hey, Curtis.’

‘Hi Link.’ Curtis said, grabbing the glass.

_Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look._

‘Curtis, this is Mickey.’ Link grinned. ‘Mickey is a regular here. But it’s all very hush hush.’

 _Fuck you, Link._ Now Mickey had to at least acknowledge the dude beside him. Mickey turned and looked straight into the face of the boy beside him. _Fuck, he’s fucking dazzling this close up._ ‘Hey.’ _Very smooth. Well done._ Mickey raised his glass, ending his part of the conversation.

He saw Curtis’ eyes flick to his knuckle tattoos as he sipped his whiskey. ‘Mickey, huh?’

‘Yup.’ Fuck, did this guy know him?

‘You’re kinda cute.’ Curtis said, green eyes twinkling.

‘Not bad yourself.’ _Where the fuck did that come from?_

Curtis grinned. ‘I finish my shift at one. Wanna do something later?’

Mickey shrugged, trying to make it look like he hadn’t already decided to go somewhere before the question had even been asked. ‘Yeah, alright.’

‘Great.’ Curtis put his glass down and went back to his stage.

Now all Mickey had to do was try not to jump this guy’s bones while he was still technically on duty.

 

* * *

 

Ian could hardly believe his eyes.

He saw a lot of fucking weird things, working as a dancer in a gay club, but literally the last thing he ever expected to see was a Milkovich in his place of employment. A Milkovich who was apparently a regular there, too.

He hadn’t even known it was a Milkovich. It just looked like the back of another head. Then Link introduced him as “Mickey”, and if _that_ wasn’t enough, the distinctive knuckle tattoos had firmly cemented Ian’s thought that this was Mickey Milkovich.

Holy fucking shit.

For some fucking stupid reason, Ian asked Mickey to go somewhere with him. Ian had no idea where that had come from, because he was pretty fucking sure he didn’t give permission for that little suggestion to pass his lips. Maybe it was his dick taking control of his brain again. He couldn’t help it. He’d never dreamed that a Milkovich brother would be so... fucking spectacularly gorgeous, really.

Then, to make things even better, Mickey had agreed.

And now, here they were. Ian was outside, waiting, as Mickey stood inside the office of a shitty motel, paying for a room for the night. He came back out a few minutes later, a key hanging off one finger, as he clutched a small bottle in one hand. ‘What the fuck kind of motel gives complementary bottles of lube.’

Ian couldn’t help himself as he started snickering. ‘Can’t say it won’t come in handy.’

‘Yeah, well, a fucking condom would’ve been better.’ Mickey grumbled, setting off in the direction of the room.

‘What, you think I go around sleeping with every guy I meet?’

‘You’re definitely hot enough to get away with it.’ Mickey said, stopping outside a door and twisting the key into the lock.

‘You think?’

‘Yeah, man.’ Mickey pushed the door open and walked in to find a light switch. ‘You could have every STD to grace the face of the Earth, for all I know.’

Ian rolled his eyes as he shut the door, locking it behind them. ‘I can guarantee I don’t.’

‘Oh can you?’ Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow, even though he knew Ian wouldn’t be able to see it.

Ian flipped a switch his hands came across on the wall, and a light turned on overhead. ‘Yeah, my brother makes me get tested every month. All clean.’

‘How caring.’ Mickey said, chucking the bottle onto the bed. ‘Curtis isn’t your real name, is it?’

‘Nah, it’s Ian.’

Somewhere in Mickey’s brain, a tiny alarm started going off. He ignored it in favour of beginning to pull his clothes off. ‘Great, well, you wanna chitchat or you wanna get on me?’

Ian grinned and started on his own clothes in response.

 

* * *

 

Afterwards, Ian and Mickey lay in the bed, both silently knowing who the other was, but not wanting to say anything and reveal themselves.

It was Ian who couldn’t take it any longer. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’ he murmured.

‘Tell anyone what?’ Mickey asked, eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling.

‘That you’re gay.’  

‘Who the fuck are you supposed to not be telling?’

‘Mandy. Anyone that knows you.’

‘That’s real big of you, Gallagher.’

Ian smiled in spite of himself. ‘So you know who I am.’

‘Didn’t really click until you said your name was Ian.’ Mickey said, risking a glance to his left to watch Ian’s face.

‘But you still wanted to fuck?’

‘Yeah, man. I meant it when I said you were hot.’

‘So that’s all this was?’

‘What did you think it was? A date with a fuckin’ picnic breakfast after?’

‘I know better than to expect that of a Milkovich.’ Ian turned on his side to look properly at Mickey. ‘Mandy doesn’t know, does she?’

‘Fuck off. I trust her more than my brothers, but I’d be dead if it slipped out of her.’

‘So would I.’

‘Mandy knows you’re gay?’ Mickey asked incredulously.

‘She’s my best friend. Course she does.’ Ian sighed and flopped onto his back again. ‘So do we just end this here?’

‘I paid for a night. I’m fuckin’ sleeping here.’ Mickey turned onto his side and pulled the covers up around his head. ‘You might as well stay, too. It’s fuckin’ late.’

‘Mmkay.’ Ian said, settling back into the sheets and falling asleep.

Mickey was gone when Ian woke up the next morning. He was expecting it.

 

* * *

 

What Ian wasn’t expecting was for Mickey to turn up to the club again that night. Then take him to the same shitty motel. Then for them to fuck for the second night in a row. He certainly wasn’t expecting for Mickey to be at the club every night he was, and then for this to become a thing they did. Every night Ian worked, Mickey would take him to the motel, and they would fuck.

Neither of them acknowledged the other’s reputation, family, or general outside life, but both found solace in the confines of that motel room. With its fading wallpaper, cracked ceiling tiles, and threadbare carpet, it was an unlikely place to find heaven. But they did, and they kept going back for more.

 

* * *

 

Mandy noticed one day, while Ian was at her house, that he seemed happier. ‘What’s gotten into you lately?’ she asked.

‘Hmm?’

‘You’re so much happier than you usually are.’

‘I guess I am happier... I met someone.’ Ian smiled.

‘Oh? Do tell.’

‘He’s... amazing. He’s beautiful, smarter than he’d want you to believe, and surprisingly nice. Caring, even.’ Ian sighed and sunk backwards into the couch. ‘He’s incredible.’

‘Who is he?’ Mandy tiled her head and grabbed a pizza bagel off the plate in front of them. ‘I want to know everything about this dude so I can stalk him and make sure he’s good enough for you.’

‘Nah, Mands. You don’t have to.’

‘At least tell me his name?’

‘Can’t. He’s on the downlow, you know?’

Mandy groaned. ‘Are you fucking a married man again? _Iaaaaaan_. We’ve had this conversation.’

‘No, he’s not married. Promise.’

‘That’s a bonus.’

‘It is. Just trust me when I saw, he’s everything I want in a person.’

‘Are you in love?’ Mandy asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Probably.’ Ian said, turning his head when he heard a door behind him open and shut. He turned and automatically said, ‘Oh, hey, Mick.’

Mickey nodded in greeting and walked through to the kitchen. Mandy frowned at the exchange. ‘Have you two met?’

‘Uhhhhhh...’ Ian cursed mentally. That kind of just threw everything up in the air.

Mickey sat on the couch beside Ian. ‘Yup.’

‘How?’

Mickey and Ian exchanged a look. Mandy had seen that look before. ‘No.’

‘No what?’ Ian asked, turning his attention to Mandy.

‘Is it him?’

Mickey cleared his throat and took the last pizza bagel. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You two aren’t fucking then?’

‘Nope. Hate the fucker.’ Mickey said, changing the TV channel.

‘I have to go, Mands.’ Ian said, standing abruptly. ‘Gotta go home and shower before my shift.’

‘Okay.’ Mandy stood and embraced Ian briefly. ‘Don’t fuck any married guys!’

 

* * *

 

When Ian went up to the bar for his mid-shift water, he was expecting Mickey to be there. He wasn’t disappointed. ‘What do you want, Mick.’

‘I don’t hate you, you know.’

‘What a shame. Hate fucks are always the best kind.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘I had to throw Mandy off the scent. She would’ve seen straight through you.’

‘Great.’ Ian said, downing half his water at once. ‘Pray tell, what _do_ you think of me?’ When Mickey shrugged, Ian said, ‘That’s not going to do it, asshole.’

Mickey sighed angrily. ‘This is the only time I’m going to say it, so listen up, Firecrotch.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I like you. There’s something about you that has me wanting more from you, no matter what you give me. You’re like a fuckin’ drug to me, man. You make me feel fuckin’ fantastic, and I want to keep feeling that way for as long as I can before my sister or brothers come and throw me off the tower.’

‘You like me?’ Ian grinned.

‘I give you a fuckin’ speech and _that’s_ what you get from it?’

‘Pretty much.’ Ian finished off the rest of his water. ‘I guess I like you too.’

‘Good. Wanna do something later?’ Mickey asked, repeating Ian’s first words back to him.

Ian’s grin stretched wider as he parroted Mickey’s reply. ‘Yeah, alright.’


End file.
